


Kind of a Fuck Up

by beeboy



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Gen, and theres not that much violence, brotherly shit, i dunno what else to tag this as, probably not gonna turn into anything shippy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeboy/pseuds/beeboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk royally messes up and lands himself in jail briefly, leaving his older brother Dave to pick him up</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting

What started out as a party thrown by some friends, turned into someone bringing an asshole inside and Dirk managing to get himself put into a holding cell at the police station. Dirk wasn't usually one to care a whole lot about others, especially some people at a party. A couple of his friends decided to throw a party since their parents were going to be gone for a while, a perfect opportunity really. And like most parties with even a few teenagers, there were plenty of drinks, people who’d never talked before making out, either because of the inebriation or because the ever famous reason of “fuck it.” 

Dirk drank a decent amount, not because he wanted to seem cooler- alcohol wouldn't make him any cooler- but it took the edge off of everything for a short while. What with his older brother being, Dave, and school sucking more than it ever had before because it was senior year and he had to think about colleges and what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. He didn't need college, he could make fully functional robots able to recognize emotion who were also years ahead of their time. Colleges needed him more than he needed them, anyone would be lucky to hire him, but he wouldn't ever give those robots to anyone, even if they wanted to see the type of technology that an eighteen year old could make by himself. 

Things were going fine when Dirk had some booze in his system, he was making casual conversation with a couple of people he recognized from school but didn't know well. He wasn't planning to make any new friends but it’d be nice to be familiar with more people than his five or so friends. Still not drunk at this point, someone bumped into Dirk and he looked over his shoulder to see some guy that appeared to be in his early twenty’s, Dirk had no idea why this guy was at this party but he didn't seem too happy, obviously drunk. Rolling his eyes, the blond headed teen pushed him back a little to start talking to his new acquaintances again, what he did had definitely pissed the guy off because he was soon turned around and punched square in the face. 

Okay, that actually hurt. Dirk was used to fighting with swords, not with his hands but at least he was faster than this other guy. Taking the first chance he had, Dirk slipped his shades off his face since they definitely cracked when he was punched, but now he had an even bigger reason to kick this guy’s ass. One quick kick to the crotch and he was down, Dirk knew it’d be that easy for him to win. And now everyone was staring at him, both because he didn't have his shades on and because he just got into a fight for no reason. Whatever. He sighed and started walking away, only to be pulled down and an arm was around his neck, holding him there and not able to breathe. 

Apparently, someone at that party called the cops when the two first started fighting and they came in when both of the guys were on the ground and Dirk was totally not losing. He was in a position where he couldn't punch or kick properly. They were split up and one of the cops took Dirk to the police station, very roughly pushing him into a holding cell. He asked him all these questions like if he’d done any drugs or if he was drunk, who started the fight and blah blah blah. All he knew was that none of this was his fault and he wasn't going to let anyone tell him that it was. 

A little while later, the police officer told him that he was going to get to call one person to come pick him up and it better not be one of the people at that party. Well, all his friends were at that party, he didn't know who else to call but his brother. How great. The guy was going to be furious but it was his only option. So he took the phone and dialed the number, waiting for his brother to either pick up or for it to go to voice mail, he didn't pay attention. “Don’t say anything and don’t ask questions either. I kinda need you to come pick me up at the police station because someone else was being an idiot and I got caught. You don’t have to pay any money or do any paperwork, you just need to pick me up as soon as possible, bye.” That went alright, he just didn't want to have to talk to his brother since the guy was most likely seething right now. All he had to do now was wait until he could go back home and clean himself up since he had a few cuts and bruises and he needed to find his spare shades.


	2. "Dumbass"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dave's introduction into the situation

His name was David Strider, a big shot Hollywood producer, filmmaker, visual artist, photographer, and the list continued on for a very lengthy period of time that would have grammar fanatics twitching in their seats. The point at focus was that he was kind of a big deal. If it wasn't his skills in photography, then it was his thick wad of never ending cash flow he poured into films and his own script writing. The media was a crazed pack of hyenas when it came to his name. Lets face it here, the guy was the juiciest piece of meat in this hungry world of starving media. they covered his ass over everything from the shoes he was wearing, to what product was in his hair, to whom he stood five inches from at some stupid party. 

Unfortunately, with all that media coverage came a few points that plagued his life. One, he hadn’t always been famous. 

Starting out times had been rough and kind of a huge drag. He had no family history, and almost no job experience, and on top of that..a brother. Before it hit the wall and his name got etched on some gold star in Hollywood, he was a single adult raising his kid brother alone. It really wasn't that bad of a situation. In full honesty he loved Dirk to death and back. The kid was his little brother, and he'd jump in front of a bullet or take a sword through his heart for him. He had known Dirk Strider since he was very tiny, and when he was younger David’s shoulders were the single throne to the small golden eyed Prince. 

Those less financially well-off times had been the peaceful introduction to a pretty bad shitstorm. A shitstorm not limited to Dirk's teen years, David's growing career, emotions, teenager drama, and the fact David's drinking got way out of hand during his FIRST script writing. It was a few years since that first script though, not that it mattered. The unfortunate part of that brilliance he spit out in a few weeks time was that the media loved him. That meant less privacy, less time with his brother, and more stress.

Stress was something the elder didn't deal well with; and unfortunately both of them knew that fact all too well. 

No no no, he didn't get violent or crazy with stress. David wasn't naturally violent nor subconsciously violent. No, his stress came in a few ways. Sickness was the big one, depression came a close second, and then there was the lovely ever-growing alcoholism. Yeah. He could be a huge asshole and he knew it; that was probably why he kept a huge distance between him and the little Prince, a nickname he used in full fondness, for almost twelve years now. A distance pulled from it's comfortable little throne with nothing but a simple phone call. 

Dammit almighty the kid was going to be the death of him. Here he was, mister rich charisma, standing in the dead center of four other hotshot producers -- all with wine in their hands mind you -- and he gets a very urgent sounding buzz in the pocket of his fine tailored dress pants. It's no surprise that wine glass left his hands and his feet carried him away with no warning nor word to his company as he took the call. He was, after all, very alert to the fact the caller id on his phone was the police station local to one of their many homes. 

He flicked it open and was greeted with Dirks hurried voice and hurried hang up. He was LEFT with the building anger and the gut wrenching worry. David Strider stuffed his phone back into his black dress pants, his other hand smothing back dirty blond hair --almost brunet-- with a stressed sigh that left his lips. He then ran his hand over the scruff that lined his jawline quickly before squeezing the spot just between his eyes on the bridge of his nose. He turned tail and returned to his guests, a heavy frown set on the lips that had smiled not moments before.

"I need to ask your pardon, my little one needs me. Feel free to read over my files. I dont know if I'll be back." He turned his attention sharply to a butler who straightened upon being seen. "Please make my guests feel welcome and prepare any room they might need if they stay. Call the city house and let them know I’m coming home. Also tell them not to panic, since I know that they have tried and failed keeping Dirk's projects in the confines of his room." 

The mention of Dirk's mess brought a strained fondness of a smile to his lips before he rubbed the creases in his forehead and hurried towards the door with the butler in toe. "I don't need anything, I assure you. I just need to know he's okay. All I got was a hello, come get me, goodbye. If you could call ahead for a first aid kit or blankets from the usual house that'd be great." 

He grabbed the keys to one of his cars, probably the 360 Z, and hurried from the front doors in a jog. A quick beep alerted him it was the Z, and he hopped in with no hesitation and cranked the car. The tires screeched on his way out and the gates could only just barely open in time to let him free. 

It didn't matter much anyway because there was something worse than steel keeping him from his brother. The Media. (Dun dun dunnn) Motorcycles, big cameras, news station vans, yeah...he had a nice crowd following his car. The police that joined in later( probably thanks to a call ahead courtesy of his helpers) also added to the circus. Really all he wanted was to see his brother and he got all of this bullshit. Well. It wasn't that bad. 

The police got him to the station faster and he felt kind of bad about the fact he parked directly in front and barely let the car stop moving before he got out and jogged to the doors. The police both in and out of the station had to control the news as he waltz right up to the desk and demanded one thing, and one thing only; his brother. 

When they took him to see Dirk, he was a walking statue of stress and worry. The bars were jerked back by the female officer and she honesty couldn't get out of the way fast enough for the man in the fancy black suit and red tie. He went straight up to Dirk and instantly had his hands on Dirk's cheeks. 

"What the hell?" He demanded in a strained voice, turning his little one's face side to side to inspect the bruises. "You got into a fight? He better look worse than you Dirk, I swear to all holy shit in this world." His stern voice wasn't much justice to the worried frown or met eyebrows. Instead he just jerked Dirk into a hug and nearly crushed the poor teen against his chest. "Dumbass." 

He ran his hand quickly through Dirks hair, a reassurance to himself if anything, and pulled back to grab Dirk's arm and leave the cell while pulling the teen along. It wasn't a painful nor really strict hold-- it was a guiding one that gave the point across. They were both stopped by the deputy himself before they could leave the holding cell area. Dave didn’t need to be told what awaited them, so he acted on his own brotherly instincts. 

He shed his suit jacket quickly and wrapped it around Dirk's shoulders, his frown growing stronger as regret settled in. This was one of the times he hated the media. He never let them around Dirk, and he paid news stations not to write about his brother. This time however...he might now have the power to keep this story OUT of the tabloids. It didn't matter what they said about him, but whatever they said about Dirk would no doubt piss the elder off. The worry was a growing concern on his face as he hesitated with his hands on his brother's shoulders.


	3. Getting Home

The second Dirk saw the wall of people outside through the glass doors, his fingernails were pressing into his hands. Anxiety had been a huge issue with him since he was little, but he never wanted to bother David with buying medicine and the expenses that came with it. When they had been saving all the money they could, medicine wouldn’t have been possible, but now that Dirk was 18 and lived on his own, he bought his own medicine. It’d worn off by now, unfortunately. He was getting nervous again. Anxiety was a bitch. 

“You’ll be fine, I’m gonna cover your head with my jacket so we won’t wake up with your ugly mug plastered everywhere. My car’s right out there.” Sensing Dirk’s anxiety, David placed his hand on the back of Dirk’s head and pulled him closer to press a kiss to the center of his forehead before Dirk rolled his eyes at him. He’d more or less accidentally withdrawn all affection from the household when Dirk was younger but he was trying to make up for that lately. He couldn’t help but feel like half of the kid’s issues were partially his fault. Or maybe they were all his fault. Who knows. 

David then yanked the other side of the suit up and pulled it completely over Dirk's head. He blanketed the younger from the world, and then secured both his arms around the teen to keep him safe against his side. With a confident stride he guided his younger sibling through the station and let the police open the doors. 

The noise of cameras and reporters was near deafening. David gave them nothing but hollow glares as both his arms shielded his little brother from both their sight and grasp. He hurried his hidden teen past them all and the officers who kept them at bay straight for his car. One hand left his little one in favor of yanking of the door open, and when he did he tugged the suit completely over Dirk's head and guided Dirk into the car with a hand just over the top of Dirk's head so he wouldn't hit his head on the way in. David avoided the worst of the storm with a quick jog around the car, and then he slid into the driver's seat and shot a look at his teen brother. 

"Not yet kiddo. Relax okay? I'm taking us home." Gear shift, engine growl, tires screeching. The Z ripped out from it's parked spot and sped off to be met with the police waiting for him.

It only took them ten minutes to get to the city house, and when they did the gates were already open and slid closed in a matter of seconds when the Z pulled through. His first instinct was to put the car in park and then lean over the seats to peel the suit back, take his shades off Dirk's face, and inspect the ever-growing bruise with a deep frown. "I'm going to sue the ever loving shit out of someone."

Dirk didn't pay any attention to anyone or anything while they were on their way home. The car stopped and was turned off, the jacket and shades were taken off and he looked over at his brother. He was so relieved that David wasn't pissed but he didn't feel great about it. His cool person facade was a lot easier to keep when he wasn't worrying about what was going to show up in the magazines tomorrow morning that might get either of them lots of attention that neither of them wanted. "I don't think you can sue anyone when it wasn't their fault. He just bumped into me and I pushed him a little too hard for his drunk ass." 

Dirk got out of the car and started walking up to the front door, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it since he knew the jacket messed up. He didn't want his brother to have to fix his face and worry about it, he could do it himself. Soon, he was inside the gigantic house and was heading up to his bathroom so he could see if anything was seriously hurt.

 

David watched his brother get out of the car and walk away with no words or expression. His expressionless face stayed as he moved his glasses back into his hair and eased on his suit jacket in the quietest way he possibly could. He lingered in the car for a long moment, staring down the dashboard and studying all behind the glass before whatever thought he was thinking fully came to him. His eyes closed, his mouth let out a low sigh, and he dropped the back of his head against the seat in a submission to his own mental defeat. 

He turned the car off with a lazy hand and continued to sat there-- much to the awkwardness of the hired man waiting to park the car in the garage-- and thought to himself. It wasn't until a long minute had passed that he opened up the door, handed the man the keys, and walked into the house himself. He walked up the stairs at a much slower pace, and when he got to the door he eased it open with just a nudge of the back of his knuckles. He entered no problem, and made his way into Dirk's bathroom with that set frown on his face and stared him down. The stare would be awkward if the heaviness of an unsaid emotion wasn't lingering behind it for a long moment. It had to get out one way or another. 

"How did you expect to get home after that party?" He laid it down, but then just looked angry for a split second before he calmed down his expression. "Why were you even at a party like that Dirk? You know how those parties go down. If you wanted to go so bad why didn't you tell me at least? What if someone had drugged you? What if you went missing? I sure as hell wouldn't know where you are because my ass is under the impression you are safe at /home/. Believe it or not I actually care about your ass, and leaving me in the dark is not something i'm cool with." He stressed out the last few words and gave a gruff noise through his lips. "I'm sorry I'm away and busy all the time, Dirk. I can't always be home and I know it sucks, but I'm not abandoning you." 

"Just-"   
"Fuck-"

While Dirk had been examining the good sized bruise on his face and the small jagged cut his shades had left on his eyes, David had just started rambling and worrying about him for no reason. He hadn’t been planning to drive home and get himself killed, it’s not like he even used his car anyway. “Bro, I was gonna stay at that person’s house and sleep on their couch or get someone to take me back here.” He always answered his brother when David looked like he was going to either cry or get pissed. Usually, he could keep that down and resorted to being aloof again. 

“I went because it’s boring as hell here, I have pretty much nothing to do that’s the slightest bit interesting. In case you didn’t know, leaving a kid in a huge house on his own isn’t exactly the most ideal form of fun.” There was no way he’d ever have a party here, it’d be trashed then he’d have to clean it up. All the workers here would actually have to work for once in their lives, and David would chew his ass out. That was the last thing he wanted. He glanced down at his hand while attempting to extend his fingers. “I never said you were abandoning me. You have a job and movies and stuff you gotta make for money. I know, it’s fine.” 

Okay, maybe it wasn’t completely fine. Nobody really wanted to be completely alone. Usually, people wanted to be alone when they we're forced to be around people, not when absolutely no one was around for the majority of each year. With a small shrug, Dirk slid past his brother and headed out into the kitchen. Not for food, but for something cold to put over his eye to stop the swelling. Shit, he was going to look awful tomorrow. Digging through the freezer, Dirk pulled a bag of some frozen fruit out of the freezer. Good enough.

 

David sighed when Dirk squeezed past him. The older Strider running his hand over his forehead and back into his hair with true stress and worry melted into the habitual movement. He just let his little brother escape for a moment to collect his own thoughts. When he was done, he became a big brother again. He moved quickly through the house, snatching a pair of shades from the front top drawer of Dirk's room where he remembered a pair being. Then, in the same stride, grabbed a hanging towel from the bathroom with a quick switch off of the bathroom light. 

It was easy to track Dirk to the kitchen where he hoped his monotone expression would convince the fact he wasn't in the mood to press his point. The problem was that his kiddo was smart. Insanely smart. Dirk was someone he was proud of beyond all comprehension and no matter what he loved and protected Dirk with all he was. In loving Dirk, he also knew him. He could bet money Dirk already knew his wrongs; making throwing it in his face pointless. His kid brother learned fast. It was a blessing and a curse. 

He gently grabbed the ice from Dirk's eye, wrapping it up in the towel and then gently pressing it back. "Direct contact is bad for the skin squirt. You need something soft both for the pain and for the gradual cool." He then tucked one of the legs of Dirk's shades on the front of Dirk's shirt. 

"Don't put the shades on for a bit. Go sit on the couch and watch some tv. I'll make some dinner. Anything you in the mood for?" His words rolled off at the end and were followed by a low sigh. A sigh he muffled by pulling Dirk's head close with one hand to the back of the head to press a kiss on Dirk's forehead. "Love you, Dirk. Don't be too hard on yourself. Won't be your last fight. Consider it an accomplishment. You lasted three years longer than I did without one." Each word was whispered against Dirk's skin, but the last was parted as he ruffled up Dirk's hair and started to check the fridge for things to make.

Dirk held the towel-wrapped frozen fruit to his eye and went to go sit on the couch after David stopped being so sappy, good lord. “We don’t have anything here, just order takeout.” He was well aware that there was no cooking materials here, even if David had enough money to buy whatever he wanted. He always ordered food, day in and day out for the most part. And somehow he was still fit. What a miracle. 

“Okay, fatass.” David smiled as he pulled his phone from his pocket and looked through his contacts for the takeout place near here. Ordering both of their usuals, he went to go sit down on the couch with Dirk, lifting his brother’s legs up so he could sit down then putting his legs back down in his lap. “Hope you wanted pig eyeballs, ‘cause that’s what I got you.” 

“Uh huh, sure you did. Can’t wait to eat ‘em and get the juice all over you.” 

“Don’t be gross.” 

“Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave me any suggestions of what I should write about! You can leave a comment here or send me a message on tumblr at dragon-royalty.tumblr.com


End file.
